


Estranged, Lost, Found

by WDW



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Not Time Travel, aggressively asserting the spirit of the season, but not really, kind of a reverse portal au, that's all I'm gonna say, this is an AU based off of a classic holiday film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WDW/pseuds/WDW
Summary: Ford lost his brother to the portal he created.  By dismantling it to save the world, he ensured Stanley’s death.  Thirty years after, the winter his reclusive lifestyle is disrupted by a pair of painfully familiar twins, someone knocks on his door.[Gravity Falls AU for a classic holiday film.  Don't look at me like that.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so um. I wrote this. starts off angsty, gets progressively... not.
> 
> i refuse to explain myself

_1982_

Looking back, Ford wasn't sure when exactly things had started going completely, horribly wrong.

His English classes back in college had taught him to look at the root causes of problems, the core motivations of people. If he really wanted to put that hat back on again, write a comprehensive yet efficient thesis or two… he could make a very decent argument that everything began not the day his dreams of academia had whirred to a stop prematurely (not unlike his sabotaged perpetual motion machine) but long, _long_ before. With his six-fingered hands, with the cruelty of the children at school, with the almost obsessive way he and his brother stuck entirely together against the world.

But only one-twelfth of Ford was an English major, and so he had some other hypotheses to toss forward as well. Perhaps it was when their father had kicked Stanley out of house and home, with nothing more than an already-packed bag and a used car. When Ford had watched him drive away, a thousand brimming thoughts that refused to translate into words. The many, many occasions when Ford had said to himself, "It's been _daysweeksmonthsyears_ , Ma would know where he is, what if I -?" and thought better ~~worse~~ of it.

When he had sold his soul to a demon. When he had called on his estranged brother after a decade of silence to help him stop said demon from ending the world.

When he and said estranged brother had the bright idea to physically brawl within vicinity of a doomsday device.

But if Ford had to bet, _really_ had to pin it down on one moment… the choice was easy: the exact moment he pushed his brother into range of an activated interdimensional portal.

Stan had threatened to _burn_ his journal, his life's work (and yes, it had the plans for the portal, contained several dozen curses and spells, and just generally world-ending information, _but_ -) and Ford… just wasn't _thinking_.

He had tackled him, they had fought, and - there must have been some kind of exposed internal machinery somewhere, because Ford had pushed his brother onto the side of a console and Stan had _screamed_ (and Ford had been taken aback for a moment, because when they were kids Stan never seemed to _feel_ pain, he just took everything he got and kept hitting back -)

That was when Stan swung at him blindly, and it came as pure instinct to _grab turn push_ the blow.

Except.

His brother stumbled an additional few steps backwards than he should, from the sheer force and surprise of it. His next step met thin air.

Ford stared on with horror and realization as his brother floated upwards, slowly at first, then increasingly faster when Stan finally registered his predicament and began to flail wildly.

"F-Ford, what's going on?" His brother shouted then, somewhat hysterically. "What _is_ this thing? Oh shit, oh _shit_ -"

"It's the portal, but - I don't understand, it's not supposed to be on!" Ford stammered, mind blank and unresponsive with shock and terror.

"Then _turn it off!_ " Stan clutched a single hand to his injured shoulder. His other was outspread, still clenched the journal Ford had shoved into his hands minutes earlier. The combination of this unequal distribution of weight and the force of his thrashing spun him completely around in mid-air.

"I'm _trying_!"

The problem was, the portal was never meant to have turned on like this - all the measures for activation were still incomplete, which meant that there was no way for Ford to turn off the portal the regular way. He would have to -

"Sixer," his brother stammered, eyes wide with fear and betra - and something that Ford could not read, did not _want_ to read. "I'm - I'm sorry for everything, just please _help_ me -"

His mouth felt dry. "Stan - Stanley, I _know_ , I am, just - you have to calm down, you're making things worse -" Ford babbled as he went through the control panel looking for a manual override, but no no _no_ that had been the three-person operation, hadn't it?

But if he couldn't do it all at once, then he would have to take baby steps. The first thing he had to do was cut off the transdimensional operation of the portal -

"Calm _down_?" Stan - shrieked, for lack of a better word. The light from the portal was growing blinding, but Ford could still see his brother's struggling form - close, _too_ close to the portal's entrance. " _I'M_ making things worse?"

"Stan, you're moving too much, if you hit anything -" Ford grimaced as he flipped a switch, then two, and it _should_ work at least a little - but the portal had not dimmed in any way. In fact, it seemed to have gotten even _stronger_. He gritted his teeth. "You could damage the machinery and hurt yourself, and then I won't be able to -"

" _Damage the machinery_? Is that what you're so worried about?"

" _No_ , Stan, I just meant -"

Several things happened in quick succession.

One, the control panel of the portal blinked a single warning of 'Anomalous Gravity Event: 0:02.' Before he could shout, yell, warn his brother in any way, the timer hit zero and gravity jerked Ford upwards, slightly but violently, into the air.

Two, out of the corner of his eyes, Ford saw Stanley's thrashing form careen dangerously upwards.

"Stanley!"

He saw Stan look up slightly, just in time for the back of his head to connect with the metal surface of the portal.

There was a loud crack. His brother went suddenly, terrifyingly limp.

Three, the brightness of the portal became overwhelmingly intense. It was through squinted, bleary eyes that Ford saw his brother - his brother's body - pass through the surface of the dimensional gate. Another flash forced his eyes shut and the loud sounds of twisting metal made Ford cower underneath whatever shelter he could reach.

It seemed like forever before the light died down and silence settled back over the empty laboratory.

When Ford opened his eyes, the portal was off - completely and utterly broken for the time being, it seemed, if the exposed and ripped cables were any indication. And Stanley...

Stanley was gone, without a trace.

 _Or rather_ , Ford thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach, staring up at the red that dripped from a delicate little dent on the inner edge of the portal and pooled slowly on the ground, _with several traces._

He sat down - slumped really, all energy and adrenaline draining out of his form to be replaced by cold, numb realization. His exhale of breath came out as a sob.

Minutes passed. The portal remained dark. The room was silent, but for the dull ringing in his ears and the jarring rasps of his own heavy breathing.

Ford had to fix the portal. _He couldn't fix the portal._ His brother was on the other side of that thing, trapped with whatever monstrosities had driven Fiddleford insane on sight. _If he opened the portal again, Bill would win. The world would end._ Stanley had been injured several times over when he went through. He needed medical help. He couldn't survive in the condition he was in, especially in some kind of alien dimension -

_No, he couldn't._

_He didn't._

Reality hit.

Fixing the portal, opening it back up - that meant putting his brother above the fate of the entire world and everyone who lived in it. Not to mention, given the damage done to the portal, given the fact that Stanley had taken a third of the plans with him, it was an endeavor that would take him days, weeks. Possibly even more. Possibly never.

_Too long. Too la -_

Despite himself, Ford remembered the final discordant crunch of bone against metal. The unnatural limpness of Stan's body during those last few seconds of terror.

He shuddered.

No, it was already too late.

( _oh fordsy, enough about that. admit it: cracked skull or not, he was beyond saving the moment you pushed him into the portal._

_he didn't know it_

_but_ you _did)_

The moment every power source to the portal is destroyed and he is sure that it will never be activated again, Ford sits down and cries. He cries for a very long time.

* * *

  _???_

Awareness returned to him slowly.

He was surrounded by softness and warmth. The room he was in was dimly lighted, enough that he could see hazily, but not so much that it became piercing. There was something wrapped tightly around his head.

He hurt. He hurt in a lot of places, actually. Maybe everywhere, but he wasn't sure what 'everywhere' meant _._

There was a loud gasp from somewhere to his left. "Mister, you're awake!"

He blinked slowly, blearily, and turned his head as much as he could.

It was a kid - short and chubby, mouth wide open with such intense excitement and joy that he felt slightly uncomfortable. He held a toy car in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, as if interrupted in the middle of his work. A green cone hat balanced precariously on top of his round head.

"Abuelita said you might never wake up, but you did!" The kid's eyes were practically sparkling. "I mean, you did look pretty bad when I found you at first, Mister. And no one would tell me how long you were out there in the snow.  Even the reindeer just stared at me!"

He stared at him blankly. Something in his brain had automatically spouted ' _grandmother in Spanish'_ or ' _cold white stuff_ _on the ground sometimes_.' But none of those words made any real sense to him, not put together like that.

The kid blinked, and scratched his hair in embarrassment. "Heh, oops. Sorry, Mister. Abuelita always scolds me for this, but I keep on forgetting anyways. My name's Soos. What's yours, Mister?"

He thought as hard as he could. There was nothing there. There was nothing anywhere.

"I, uh," he said slowly under Soos' expectant gaze. His voice was hoarse, as if he had been using it a lot recently. "I... don't know."

Soos opened his mouth in an 'o' of surprise. "I'll help you figure out your name, Mister!" He furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Oh! You had this weird-looking book with you when you showed up. No one knew what it was, so Abuelita let me keep it. Maybe you wrote your name in here when you remembered it!"

"Um," he said weakly. He didn't remember a book. But then again, he didn't remember much of anything. "Sure, uh. Kid."

Soos jolted in surprise and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but thought better of it. Not that it was really necessary. The bright smile spreading across his face spoke volumes.

The kid cracked open something just out of view, and he distantly heard the sound of flipping pages.

"Huh, this is some fancy handwriting. But it says…" Soos squinted. "It says this book belongs to 'Stanford Pines.' Are you 'Stanford Pines,' Mister?"

"Stanford…" It sounded familiar, which was more than he could say for anything else he had heard in the past five minutes. "I - I could be. I don't know. Maybe."

"Mr. Stanford?"

He choked. Maybe not. "Uh. Just Stan is fine."

Soos nodded sagely. "Got it, Mr. Stan!"

There was a brief silence. Something about the situation felt uncomfortably familiar, in a way that he did not like at all.

"W-What happens now?" The newly dubbed 'Stan' asked quietly. The next words came easily, as if he had had the same conversation many times before. "I - I don't have anything I can pay with. And I don't - have anywhere to go."

Soos beamed. "I don't know what 'pay' means, Mr. Stan, but you can come stay with me and my Abuelita! We got a whole cottage on the outskirts of town, near the big toy factory. Abuelita won't mind - she always says it feels too empty sometimes, after..." He trailed off awkwardly.

 _...Huh_. He blinked. There was something strange and nagging about the statement, but he didn't remember enough to know exactly what was off.

For the first time, he looked hard at Soos - and specifically, what the kid was wearing.  

Whole lot of green, whole lot of yellow.  And those shoes... were they supposed to be curved up like that?

Even without a real idea of what normal fashion was... Stan couldn't help but think that this wasn't it.

"Uh, kid," he said slowly, "where exactly _is_ here?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh, this happened.

_2012_

Looking back, Ford wasn't sure when exactly things had started going completely, horribly wrong.

He spent much of the next thirty years attempting to make up for his many mistakes. The process of dismantling of the portal had been difficult enough on his own. It took many years to slowly get rid of the majority of the metal and circuitry that made up its body. Even then, much of the basic framework still lied deep under his home, collecting dust in the dark basement of a laboratory Ford could hardly bring himself to enter.

More than anyone else alive, he knew that Bill Cipher had his fingers in many pies. Ford might had been his primary pawn, his plan A, but he highly doubted that the demon would simply give up on his millennia-long plans because of a momentary defeat.

The portal might have been taken down, but he was sure that there were other ways to rip open the walls separating dimensions. Especially… especially when they were already weakened. After all, the portal had already been fully activated once before.

It was difficult and time-consuming work, researching Bill's previous movements throughout human history and planning, the best he could, against his future schemes. For one, it meant that Ford stayed to himself. The moment he had been foolish enough to fall for Bill's tricks, he had enlisted himself into a lifetime of foiling the demon's plans, in any way possible. There was no point in getting anyone else involved in this mess, especially after what happened with Fiddleford and… and Stanley.

That also meant that Ford had little to no contact with his family. Even before his parents passed, he had maintained only the sparsest of contact - especially after Ma had asked obliviously, just the once, if he had heard anything from his brother.

Now that they were gone, he knew little enough about his remaining relatives to keep in any real contact with them - though they certainly did try their best to loop him into holiday celebrations and family reunions. Emphasis on 'try.'

(The one exception had been when Shermie had called him up specifically and urgently to invite him to see the newest additions to the Pines family.

Twins. Mabel and Mason.

How could he say no after _that_?)

So when his nephew had left a message on his ancient answering machine asking for help regarding those same twins, Ford wasn't quite sure how to react. The man had practically been begging - there seemed to be some circumstances involving traveling for work and a summer camp going up in perhaps literal flames, and _please_ Uncle Stanford, can you stay with you for just a couple of weeks over their winter break? They really won't be any trouble.

Maybe his first mistake was, in a decision he regretted immediately afterwards, saying 'yes.' Because of _course_ two twelve year olds would be the perfect additions to a solitary, hermit residence on the outskirts of some random Oregon town. Surely, their temporary presence would interfere in _no_ way with his lifelong pursuit of vengeance against the demon who had manipulated him into almost ending the world.

(...But again, maybe he had already lost that particular battle twelve years ago, the moment he felt the warm weights of those identical swaddles of cloth in his arms.)

Perhaps it was when the children stepped off that bus from California, when he finally saw them with his own eyes and - they had grown so much from the last time he had seen them and yet they were so small… small and painfully familiar, from the furious way Dipper reared up in defense of his sibling, to Mabel's wide toothy grin. When he saw the way they acted with each other, how they trailed after each other any and everywhere, constantly searching for adventure.

Or when Dipper had somehow found the journal he had hidden in the woods so long ago, and Ford had been forced to leave his research to prevent the children from getting themselves into more supernatural shenanigans than they had already (Gnomes? Manotaurs? What next, zombie-summoning?)

Or when the twins had drawn him out of his recluse lifestyle despite his best efforts, slowly but surely. In his defense, the two had an uncanny way of attracting strange friends in the local town, many of whom have begun to spend uncomfortably long amounts of time in and around Ford's home. Not to mention, the fact that they attracted supernatural attention no matter _what_ they did, which meant he had to act as constant chaperone if he didn't want injured children on his hands.

But if Ford had to bet, _really_ had to pin it down on one moment… the choice was easy: the exact moment he heard Mabel call out obliviously from the doorway, "Grunkle Ford, there's a guy at the door who looks just like you!"

Ford had never moved so quickly in his life.

There were dozens, hundreds of explanations for what Mabel had just said, from 'clone' to 'shapeshifter' to 'Bill Cipher finally, _finally_ making a move after all these years.' None of them were good, but they ranged from 'minor inconvenience' to 'the brief prelude to the end of the world.' Regardless, no option belonged in any proximity to his niece - who was, at that very moment, smiling brightly at someone who could be a monster in human skin.

As he neared Mabel and the open door, he could just make out the tall form of a human adult - sturdy and strong-jawed, clad in some kind of bright green. His niece turned towards him, sparkles in her eyes, and said, "Grunkle Ford, I didn't know you had a - "

Ford pushed her behind him, as gently as he could. Satisfied with the amount of space between her and the unknown variable, he looked up, a frown on his face and a demand on the tip of his tongue -

"Brother!"

All blood drained out of his face.

Stanley Pines - thirty years older and greyer, with a familiar wide grin that made his heart stutter momentarily to a stop - stood on his doorstep. His eyes shone with tears. His arms were outspread.

He was also, Ford realized numbly, dressed head to toe in what looked like an adult-sized, bright green elf costume - complete with a pair of bright yellow tights.

Ford stared, mouth open.

"After all these long years," the other man said, voice rough with emotion, "it's actually you!" He took a step forward, arms closing in for a hug.

Ford's fist collided hard with his right cheek. Stan went sprawling.

"Oh! Ow! Hot Belgian _Waffles_!" Groaned the thing in an elf costume pretending to be his _dead brother_. "What was _that_ for?"

"What _are_ you?" Ford practically growled, fists clenched at his sides, still itching to be used. The roaring in his ears seemed to drown out all rational thought. "Why are you doing this?"

"He's one of Santa's elves, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel piped up. "He said he came all the way from the North Pole to find you!"

There was a long silence.

"Mabel, dear," Ford said, voice strangled. "Go back to the living room. Find your brother. I'll take care of this."

"But Grunkle Ford -"

"...Please."

Mabel nodded hesitantly. "Bye, Stan! Don't forget to warn Santa about the disembodied wax head in our -"

" _Mabel."_

She waved and ran off.

"She's a really sweet kid," 'Stan' said slowly, the moment she was out of earshot. There was a slight, helpless smile on his face as he watched her leave. "Is she a grandkid? Or a niece, or -"

Ford grabbed him by his ridiculous, furry collar and yanked him forwards - so close that their noses were almost touching. "Is this some kind of cruel joke?" He demanded, eyes wild.

"Uh -"

"Who put you up to this? Do you know what you're _doing_?"

"Geez," the other man said slowly, leaning backwards as much as he could. He rubbed at his cheek absentmindedly, a pained expression on his face. "I dunno what I was expectin', but this wasn't it. Is this how you greet your brother after what, thirty years?"

Ford's grip tightened. He was angry, he _had_ to be, or else he would be feeling… guilt. Uncertainty. _Hope_. "You are _not_ my brother."

'Stan's expression went flat and unreadable. "Well, then, I guess -"

"My real brother died thirty years ago," Ford said leadenly, more calmly than he ever thought he could. Maybe thirty years had dulled that particular wound in some ways. But judging by the cold gnawing feeling in his belly… certainly not all. "My mistakes were what killed him. You are _not him_."

For months after the - accident, he had had a difficult time looking at his reflection. Especially after putting off a visit to the barber for too long, or before he put his glasses on in the mornings.

He and Stan had always looked too much alike.

The man in front of him now was no mirror image. Even the ridiculous elf costume could not hide the additional bulk of his frame. There was an additional squareness to his jaw that reminded Ford more of his father than of himself. What little of his hair that peeked out from under his hat was entirely grey.

If his brother hadn't - if he had had the chance to grow old -

Ford took a breath, one that came suspiciously wet. He loosened his grip. 'Stan' stumbled back a step, grimacing.

"Answer me," he said hoarsely, "before I get the information I need in other ways… what are you? Why are you _here_?"

The other man grinned apologetically. "I dunno what I can say, really. I'm Stan. And I'm not - y'know, _actually_ an elf. I mean, it's been my job for the past few decades, just not in a species kind of way. That's what I told the kid earlier, if that's why you're freaking out."

"And uh, it's kinda funny that you ask that, actually, cuz…" 'Stan' shrugged awkwardly. "I'm here to find _you_. You're my brother, aren'tcha? Least, you're supposed t' be. I - I thought you would want to see me."

He paused. "So uh, about that 'killed me' thing - exactly how metaphorical are we talkin' here?"

"You're an elf," Ford repeated blankly. "As in, a Christmas elf. From - Santa's workshop. In the _North Pole_."

"Well, it _was_ a pretty long walk down here -"

It was this last bit of ridiculousness that broke the dam. "I don't even _celebrate_ Christmas!" Ford exploded, brandishing his hands wildly. " _We_ don't celebrate Christmas! We're _Jewish_. Stan, what the _fuck_?"

The other man flinched. "Geez, Sixer, watch the language, would ya? You got kids hanging around here!"

It was as if the world had slowed to a stop.

Ford felt nauseous. "What," he said slowly before he couldn't continue any longer. He wet his lips. " _What_ did you just call me?"

"I mean, with you waving your hands around, I couldn't help but notice that you're a regular ol' Sixer - y'know, with your fingers and all. Sorry if it's, uh, a sore subject or somethin'." 'Stan' paused. "Wait," he said, a slow grin spreading on his face, "you called me Stan, just then! So you _do_ believe me -"

"Get out."

"Wait, uh. Wha - ?"

"Get _out_ ," Ford repeated, trembling. There were only two beings who would call him - _that_ , the nickname that his brother had created and his muse had ruined.

One was - _was_ long gone. Long dead. And the other…

He should've known this was too good to be true. How many times had Ford wished for this exact scenario? Dreamed that - one day, his brother would just... come back, as if none of it had happened. Not the fight in front of the portal, not the argument before then (and… not the ten long years of separation before, or the science fair fiasco that had kickstarted it.)

As if Ford had made none of his many mistakes.

But he had. He did. And his brother was never coming back, not from the other side of the portal, not with a miraculously uncracked skull, not grinning at him obliviously, as if Ford hadn't left him to die thirty years ago. No matter how much he wanted it.

Especially not in an elf costume.

But Bill… Bill was all about dreams, wasn't he? (And this, this was _exactly_ his brand of sick humor -)

"Is - Is this about the Jewish thing?" 'Stan' - but that wasn't who he was, _what_ he was, not at all - stuttered. "There's - a whole lot I don't remember, bro. You gotta believe me - heck, I didn't know you _existed_ until you popped up along with those kids on the Christmas list for this year -"

"Convenient," Ford said hoarsely. "That there's nothing I can do to corroborate your identity. Right, _Cipher_?"

"...I honestly have no idea what you're talkin' about."

"I don't know how you did this," he said blankly, "and frankly, I don't want to. Stay away from me and my family. Go back to the - 'North Pole'. Whatever you're calling the hell dimension you squirmed out from."

'Stan' stared at him, clearly shaken. "Brother, you - you don't really mean that -"

Ford slammed the door shut - or rather, he would have, if not for the adult man in an elf costume pulling on the door in the opposite direction.

" _Let. Go._ "

"Just - just wait a second," 'Stan' begged from the other side, voice slightly muffled. "I - I know you want me gone, and - if that's what ya really want, I'll leave, but there's something I gotta give you. Call it a Hanukkah present or somethin' -"

"I don't want _anything_ from you, Cipher, you've given me enough -"

"Just take it, and I'll leave - I'll go far, far away and you'll never see me again, just -"

"You - you promise," Ford said hoarsely. "Never again. And you stay far, far away from this family."

"...Yeah. If that's what ya want, bro."

He fought up the immediate desire to tell the demon not to, never to call him that again. "Give it to me then."

Something was shoved through the small vertical space between the door and the doorway. A book of some sort, thick enough to get stuck halfway through.

Slowly, resignedly, Ford pulled it through, turned it over, and - saw his own flushed face reflected on the surface of a golden, six-fingered hand. A single bold numeral one marked the cover.

His breath hitched.

Time slowed. Ford could barely hear the speaking from the other side of the door over the loud roaring in his ears.

"So, um. There you go. It's - a journal of some sort. Apparently I had this with me, thirty years ago, when I showed up in the North Pole. Always figured it was mine, read it from front to back trying to figure out who I was - but then I saw your name on the List, and ya got the six fingers and everything, so... here's it back. You're welcome."

Ford let go of the knob, and the door swung open. The man on the other side eyed him carefully. He had removed his elf hat and instead, fidgeted with it in his hands. Now that it was gone, Ford could see the large patches of missing hair on the back of Stan's head.

Because… it was, wasn't it? It couldn't be anyone else. Stan had taken the Journal with him when he had disappeared into the portal, all those years ago. Ford had thought it was gone forever, stranded somewhere in the multiverse with the brother he had lost.

Now, Stan had brought it back.

Ford trembled, and took a step forward. Then, another. Dimly, he felt moisture on his cheeks.

"You, uh, alright over there?" Stan said, slowly, cautiously.

He was closer now, almost within reach. For a moment, Stan tensed, eyes panicked, and -

Ford surged forwards. Wrapped his arms around his brother as tight as he could. Felt the soft green felt under his hands. Soft, but _solid_.

"Um," said Stan, and hugged him back, albeit a bit hesitantly.

" _Stanley_ ," he said slowly, hesitantly, as quiet as a prayer. "Stanley, you're here. After all these years, you're _alive_."

"...Is _that_ my name? Geez, our parents sure had a sick sense of humor, huh? Uh, I mean…" Stan paused. "Nah, I have absolutely no idea what's going on here."

Ford let go, stepped back, and couldn't help but stare. He had - a lot of questions. Starting with how his brother had survived thirty years in the multiverse, ending with why his brother was wearing yellow tights.

Those could wait. Especially the last one.

"You better come in," Ford said hoarsely, holding the door open. "We can talk more inside."

"You… sure?" His brother asked cautiously. "You're not gonna go berserk on me again, are ya? I'm just checking. Soos won't be too happy with me if I get murdered out here, y'know."

He wasn't sure who 'Zeus' was, but he winced. "I'm sure, Stanley. I'll explain everything I can, inside."

Stan stared at him. For a moment, Ford was terrified - Stan couldn't leave, not now, not with his mind clearly still addled from his time in the portal, not when he had just got him back -

A huge relieved grin spread across his brother's face. "...Don't mind if I do. Though, you might want to keep that door locked and those windows shuttered. Turns out I've got a, uh, whaddya call it... A warrant for my arrest."

"You - what?" he repeated blankly.

"Yeah," Stan said with a shrug. "Turns out you hafta pay for things with real money out here. Who knew?"

In the distance, police sirens could be heard.

**Author's Note:**

> ...
> 
> ORABC UNCCNA XO NJLQ CRCUN FXAM
> 
> or
> 
> kwwsv://hq.zlnlshgld.ruj/zlnl/Hoi_(ilop)


End file.
